you can't forget how to swim
by checkerboxed
Summary: [one.shot][dill x scout] it's just like riding a bike. [tokillamockingbird]


**you can't forget how to swim**-------¤  
_it's just like riding a bike.  
_-tokillamockingbird-(dill x scout)  
--------------------------------------

Baker's Eddy is warm under the hot summer sun. I dip my foot in the water and grin, wiggling my toes against the current. Next to me, Dill sighs.

"It's too hot to be out here." He shades his eyes with one hand and stares down at the creek beneath us. "Why don't we just go home?" Dill and I are rooming together in Miss Rachel's old house for the summer— she left it to Dill when she passed away some years ago, but he rarely comes here. Too many memories, he says; they swamp him.

I grin sideways at him. "Let's go swimming, if it's too hot," I say, happy that Jem taught him how so many years ago.

He groans. "I can't remember how."

With a heave, I push myself up out of the grass and slip off my sundress. With anybody else, pulling off a dress in public would have mortified me, despite the fact that I'm wearing one of the newest models of bathing suits underneath. It's separated at the belly, into two pieces, which could be the reason I'm self-conscious in it. In my twenties now, it's a far cry from the jean overalls of my childhood.

Dill is staring up at me, his eyes wide. "I don't think I've ever seen that much of your skin before," he says, and then flushes. I shake my head at him, reaching out a hand to help him up. As we grew older, the rift between us that I had only felt during the brief instances of Jem's _you can't do it, you're a girl_ speeches widened. Now, I'm constantly being reminded of it.

"It's impossible to forget how to swim," I tell him, "It's just like riding a bicycle." I tactfully ignore his second statement, because the two of us have had enough awkward moments lately; recently, he tried to call me 'Jean Louise', but that sounded horrible. I wonder briefly if I should have accepted his offer two months ago when he telephoned me from his apartment in New York City to invite me back to Maycomb. He wanted to write a book, and he needed as much help as he could get. I agreed— Dill could come up with fanciful stories, but he could never remember them later.

He snorts. "I never liked bicycles, anyway."

I lower myself into the water, making a big show of splashing around invitingly. He simply crosses his arms and stares up at the sky, which is particularly blue. "Please?" I ask, but he shakes his head. I glance down at the grimy pair of slacks he's been wearing nonstop for the past two days, and the polo he's wearing over it. I conclude that they could use a wash and step out of the water. "Come on, Dill."

Dill shakes his head. "Naw."

"Please?" I am giving him one last chance to salvage his dignity and get in the water himself, but he doesn't take it. So I wrap my arms around his neck and throw him into the water.

He comes up spluttering. "_Scout!_"

I dive in after him. "Yeah?"

He splashes around for a moment, pretending to drown. "Scout, Scout, I'm drowning!" I know he's joking because he's using his silly voice, the one he used to when we were kids.

I splash towards him. "_Hold on Dill, I'm coming to save you!_" I reach out in the water for him and grab onto his arm. We stumble through the water toward the shore, feet slipping on the smooth thick mud at the bottom.

I stumble, falling backwards. Both of us go down with a splash, and my back hits the bottom of the creek. My head comes up, and I collide with Dill, who has fallen on top of me. The water is shallow in this part of the creek, and I realize just how close we are. "Dill…"

He grins down at me. "Do you remember how we thought we'd get married when we grew up, Scout?"

I close my eyes. "Uh-huh." His hair, dislodged from its usual immaculate position, is dripping on my head.

"We've grown up," he whispers, and I open my eyes to see him lean closer and brush his lips against mine. A shiver runs through me, but I put that down as being because of the slowly cooling river around us.

"Dill…"

Dill sits back in the water, letting me up. "You know," he says, "There's a fairy who lives upstream from here, and—"

"Dill…"

"— let's you pass if you have—"

"Dill!"

He glances at me, eyes warm. "Yeah?"

I wade deeper into the water, away from him. "Did you just propose to me?"

Dill stares at me for a moment, and then submerses himself in the water. He's under there for a long time, and I'm about to get worried, when he surfaces right next to me. "Did you want me to?"

I flush. "Charles Baker Harris," I scold, "You told me you forgot how to swim." I'm aware that I am avoiding the question. But it was a difficult question to answer. _Do_ I want him to propose? Before this summer, I haven't seen Dill in years. But in the few weeks we've been here, the old companionship between us has fallen back into place.

I don't know.

He grins at me. "I remembered suddenly. It's like riding a bike, isn't it?"

_Indeed._ I don't think he realizes that he just described our companionship, because he dives underwater again and comes up squirting water into my face. I shriek. "_Dill!_"

He laughs at me. And then, seeing that I'm glaring at him, he sobers. "Sorry, Scout," he says, looking remorseful. I turn my back on him, crossing my arms. I can hear him sloshing through the water toward me, and, judging the time, I dip my arms underwater and spin toward him, pushing the water at him in a splash.

He gurgles a bit and falls backward, laughing. "I guess I deserved that," he says, floating on his back in the water.

I swim towards him. "Dill, we should probably head back."

He lifts a soggy arm and glances at his watch. "Dammit," he swears. "My watch died."

I grimace. "Oh, I'm sorry Dill."

Dill flips over and stands upright in the water. "For what?"

I motion towards his broken watch. "I pulled you in the water, which is why your watch is broken."

He unbuckles the watch and flings it toward the other side of the creek, away from us. "I have another one at home," he tells me. Sloshing over to me, Dill grins playfully at me. "If you hadn't pulled me in, I wouldn't have gotten the chance to go for a swim with a beautiful girl."

I slap him lightly on the arm, more out of embarrassment then actual anger. "Stop it, Dill," I say, turning to climb out of the water. I stop when I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Scout," he says, pulling me into his arms. I twist my head to look at him. "I'm going to kiss you now."

"Thanks for the warning," I grumble, before he turns me in his arms and kisses me. It's magic, the kiss, like he's pouring all his imagination and ideas and stories into us. I press closer, fingers fisted in his sopping shirt, loving the feel of his arms circling me.

When he pulls back, we grin at each other for a long time. "I missed you," he tells me, and I don't need to tell him that I did too. Because, somehow, he knows. He leans down to kiss me again, and I decide that I need to call my brother and thank him for making Dill learn how to swim.

-----------

**yeah, so the ending was lame.  
but that's okay, because I'm pretty sure  
dill and scout were in character ♥**

**although I could be  
_completely _wrong. **

and I'm happy with this  
because although it's a far cry  
from anything Harper Lee could write,  
it isn't horrible.

**♦♦•standard disclaimer applies.**


End file.
